A Precious Picture
by FromRussiaWithLove
Summary: It was framed very plainly, in solid black. But what was inside the frame caused the doctor to lean forward slightly, studying it intently with his murky hazel eyes. Hatori & Tohru


_Privet! _Hey everyone! After being an avid fanfic reader for a long, _long_ time, I've finally decided it's time to stop being lazy and write my own story. I must say, I feel quite partial to Hatori; he's slowly grown on me. Though Shigure will always remain my first love. grins and gives a thumbs up All right! ;)

Anyways, have fun and enjoy the story! I know you've heard this about a million time before (I know I have) but please, do review. It's the only way I'll know if I made something worth while.

**- FromRussiaWithLove**

The doctor ran a weary hand over his face, sighing as he glanced down at his own desk, papers cluttering the usually neat, organized space. Residue from his morning coffee tainted the otherwise spotless white mug perched atop a stack of manila folders; the effects of the coffee had vanished along with it.

Two lips formed a straight line as the good eye swept over the list of patients for today. Christmas day. The day that most would have gladly left the monotony of work to spend the day with a warm family, filled with smiles even more precious then the tenderest of snowflakes. But for him, that didn't exist. So he would trade in the happy home for the one place he spent countless of hours working, the smiling faces for the timid, fearful looks he received daily from his nurses, and the loving, warm family for yet another day to remind himself that once again, he was completely and utterly alone.

Earlier that day, he often times looked up from his seemingly never-ending work, wondering, with really no reason, what the dog's house might be like during this time. He imagined the two male teenagers bickering over some trivial matter as usual, probably fighting over whose present to the _other_ teenager was better. In his mind, he could just picture all of the cute, festive decorations in every room of the house, in the kitchen, living room, perhaps even outside. And there was no doubt that a feast had surely been painstakingly cooked and prepared, the delectable, enticing smells overflowing into the dining room, where everyone was seated, smiling and laughing –

But then is where he would shake those thoughts from his mind and clear his throat, fully concentrating once more on his work. It was unhealthy to dwell on which you can not have. Things that will never be. He had learned that lesson long ago, and planned to follow it, even if it meant that the past had to be forgotten. That was why, two lonely winters past, he had picked up the picture of the person most dear to him and set it carefully in the very bottom drawer of his desk, making sure it was securely locked. He hadn't opened the drawer since.

_Just eight more patients, _the doctor told himself, leaning back in his chair and sighing even deeper.

"Oh! I-I'm sorry to intrude!"

……

"Yes, that's me!" Laughter. "Is he too busy now?"

The doctor raised a single dark eyebrow in question to the unfamiliar voices he heard outside of his office. The first voice sounded cheerful, in an almost childish way, while the second voice was much more muffled. Straightening in his chair, he let his usually restrained curiosity get the better of him, trying to listen to the conversation.

Suddenly his door opened, as one of his nurses, Etsuko, cautiously walked in, causing the doctor to jump a little in surprise.

"Um, you next patient is here," the middle-aged woman stuttered slightly, looking for a way to politely escape the awkward situation.

The doctor, still somewhat embarrassed for being caught eavesdropping, simply nodded his head and waved her off to bring in the patient.

_Just eight more, _he reminded himself halfheartedly, preparing the necessary paperwork and bringing it forward. _Just eight more._

_No more_. The doctor let that fact slowly sink in as he melted into the soft cushion of his chair. Working the kinks out of his neck, he tiredly glanced at his wristwatch, taking some time to register that it was eleven thirty at night. He was mildly surprised that it was so late yet it didn't shock him that much. He was used to working well into the night, sometimes even later then most people would deem rational.

Standing, he gave the papers on his desk one last rearrangement before striding over to grab his coat and briefcase. Shrugging into the coat, he buttoned it up all the way, knowing from looking outside that it was still snowing pretty hard. In one swift motion, he took the briefcase in his long fingers and turned off the lights. At once, his face was veiled in shadow.

Everyone else had already gone home. The lobby was completely deserted, except for all the paperwork for next week's patients, but he chose to purposefully ignore that. Something else however, caught his eye, as he walked past the receptionist's counter.

Laying there was a small box, wrapped in very colorful red and green paper, with, from what he could tell, a small card on top.

He stopped for a moment, perplexed. Even though his mind ached from exhaustion, he couldn't help the questions assailing his thoughts. Could one of the nurses have left it there? Perhaps it was for a family member and they had forgotten it? But why would they have brought anything here in the first place? Hatori mentally shook his head; it wasn't making any sense.

He stepped towards the strange box and peered down on it and on the note atop. His eyes widened beneath the curtain of black hair. Hesitantly, he took a hand and slowly brought the note up closer to his face, making sure he wasn't hallucinating.

**_Merry Christmas, Hatori-san!_**

He _wasn't_ hallucinating. It was indeed for him. Setting the small card down, he looked down at the box with even more bewilderment. Who would have given him something?

Being the logical man that he was, he figured there was no use dwelling over that matter, knowing that there was only one way he could have any idea of who had given it to him.

Setting himself down in one of the uncomfortable lobby chairs, he laid the box on his lap and took a breath. He still couldn't get over the shock from receiving a present from someone. It had been a long time since he had been given anything for Christmas, he wondered. Except for the occasional book from the dog or perhaps something completely ridiculous from the snake's shop. Other than that, nothing.

He tore the festive paper away and drew back the closure of the simple white box, having no idea what to expect.

The doctor stilled instantly. A picture.

It was framed very plainly, in solid black. But what was inside the frame caused the doctor to lean forward slightly, studying it intently with his murky hazel eyes.

The picture included the dog, along with the three teenagers living with him. All were giving slightly different expressions at the camera; the dog, a slight wave along with a playful grin, the cat staring forward reluctantly with his arms crossed, a small, soft smile from the rat, and the girl…

The doctor leaned even closer.

The girl had obviously been laughing right when the photo had been taken. Her gentle blue eyes were sparkling, beaming cheerfully as she held both hands close to her heart, as if she were overcome with happiness. Even if she hadn't been in the center, the doctor's eyes still would've been drawn to her. She simply glowed.

And as silly as it might have looked, all four of them doing something slightly different, it all seemed to work somehow. It wasn't forced, or fake. Everyone looked completely natural.

He stared at the picture, the intensity of his eyes melting into something a bit softer. It was from her. The gift was from her. He felt he should have known the moment he heard the strange voices outside his office (she must've come by earlier to drop it off, he mused), but as much as he tried, he couldn't ignore the feeling of astonishment that someone had actually thought to buy him something. That same feeling settled into his stomach and caused a little flip.

As he stood up and walked back to his office, bringing the box with him, he thought back to the other picture and the day two years past. He thought of the hollow feeling in his heart as he picked up the picture for what he thought would hopefully be the last time. The last time for a lot of things. The last time he would unconsciously glance at it across the room, the last time he would silently take it in his hands and feel the coolness of the glass, the last time he would lay it by his bedside, just so he could wake up to her face the next morning. He had put the picture away because he knew, more than anyone, that some memories just had to be erased. Don't dwell on which you can not have, he told himself. On which you can not have anymore.

He opened the door to his office and turned on the light once again.

He knew it was cold, but it was what he had to do to keep moving forward. To awake each day without being immersed in painful recollections. It was the only thing he knew how to do. Everything else was shrouded in doubt.

And yet…

He took the picture in his hands and looked at the girl. Her smile only seemed to grow brighter the longer he stared at it. And, without really realizing it, he could feel the urge as well, the corners of his lips quirking slightly into a shadow of a smile.

And yet a small part of him wished to change.

Walking over to his desk, he hesitated, hovering slightly over the last drawer of his desk, that drawer which held so much and yet nothing at all. He stayed very still, contemplating what to do, until he finally seemed to make up his mind.

He lowered the picture onto his desk, setting it near the corner edge.

As he realized what he did, he took a breath.

It was unhealthy to dwell on which you can not have.

With a single finger he touched the picture longingly.

Things that will never be.

_But just maybe,_ that small part of him thought as he turned away, walking out of the office and closing the door softly behind him. The lights clicked off.

_Just maybe._


End file.
